Thoughts of a Crazed Archaeologist's Pupil
by FieryBrunette
Summary: Indiana Jones has never had an easy life, but when he becomes the apprentice of the famous Abner Ravenwood, his troubles come to a whole new level when a fiesty, tempermental teenager named Marion Ravenwood comes tumbling literally! into his life.
1. The Girl with Green Eyes

They say that the first day in a new environment is always interesting. Whether you're scaling the cliffs of Mount Everest or simply beginning your job as an stenog at the office down the street, you're bound to have an interesting day.

But let me say that I now hold the record for the most interesting day in the history of first days in new environments. No one and no thing could possibly even beat the first few MINUTES of my arrival at Professor Abner Ravenwood's house on the Chicago University campus. To say I had an interesting experience is a bit of an....understatement.

Just picture it, alright?

You have your typical rich-Professor house on the corner of the street. Everything is spic and span, and the butler is standing dutifully at the door.

Enter a young, intelligent, and rather sexy man on the doorstep, pushing his glasses up his nose and making sure that his tie is straight.

This is the part where I introduce myself.

Dr. Henry Jones Jr.

College major in history and archaeology.

Apprentice of Abner Ravenwood for the next three years.

.........

But you can call me Indy, of course.

So there I stood, completely nervous and thinking that Mr. Ravenwood would be awake at this hour. I checked my watch for what seemed the fiftieth time, wondering what sort of apprentice would show at his tutor's house at nine o' clock in the morning.

Apparently, an over zealous one.

I rang the door bell, checked my watch again and waited.

A thin, wiry and decidedly tall man answered the door. Mr. Ravenwood had explained that he only had one butler, who was to be addressed by his first name.

"Ben, I presume?" I asked, putting on my good-school-boy smile.

"Mr. Jones." His tight smile was kindlier than I expected it to be. "This way."

I entered the main hallway, a huge oak paneled floor with many artifacts about the room. I felt like I was in a museum instead of an actual home.

Ben lead me through it into a small but comforting study. The walls were adorned with more artifacts and shelves and shelves of books. My mouth nearly watered with the thought of the stuff I would learn here, how much my career would be advanced. How many surprises were going to be around the corner.

Little did I know that the first was only minutes away.

Ben took my suitcase and told me that breakfast was set on the table. Truth be told, I had already stuffed my face full at the cafe down the road, but that didn't stop me from pouring myself a cup of coffee and seating myself down at the table.

The Morning Paper had an interesting article headline on the front, so I casually picked it up and began to scan the story. Ben came back and stood dutifully at the door.

"The Master is out with the Dean of the college." Ben said a moment later. "He should be back at by dinner tonight. Feel free to go to your room and rest, Mr. Jones."

I nodded and smiled, "Thanks, Ben."

Truth be told, I was exhausted, despite the fact that I had had the last twelve hours or so to sleep on the plane. I can never sleep on planes, because the people around me are too fascinating to not watch. I did plan on going up to my room and getting some rest, but first, I wanted to read the paper.

It was quiet, and peaceful. I really could get used to this kind of environment.

I really should have taken the slamming of the door and the patter of feet as a sign that something was going on. But, hungry-for-knowledge idiot that I am, I was unable to care as I read the front page story.

Next, a shattering crash on the floor above us. I looked at Ben over the edge of the paper, who seem completely unfazed by the ruckus upstairs. Supposing it was nothing, I turned back to the paper, hiding from the study itself behind the black and white print.

The door to the study flew open with a bang and the patter of feet became quite apparent. Still, I was too immersed in the story to even look up. I figured it to be either another servant or (if I was lucky, which now that I think on it, I wasn't) Mr. Ravenwood.

My attention wasn't really caught until I heard the voice that accompanied the light footsteps.

"Good morning, Ben!"

Loud, decidedly feminine, the voice broke my concentration. I lost my place in the story and had to blink twice before going back to reading it.

But when a pair of hands settled on my knees, and the voice addressed me as 'Daddy', I knew that I had to see whoever this person was.

I lowered the paper, making sure to plaster the cockiest grin I had on my face.

Whoever I thought that person might have been...well, I certainly wasn't expecting who it actually was.

And I wasn't expecting to see a pair of brilliant emerald eyes staring at me widely.

I blinked at the person, and then turned to Ben and asked in a haughty tone, "Whose the girl with the green eyes?"

In an instant, the girl let go of my knees and sprinted out of the room, tripping once on her way out. I heard her run up the stairs and slam her door in a matter of five seconds or so.

There hasn't been a sound from upstairs in over three hours.

So....my first experience at the Ravenwood House?

Interesting.

Most definitely interesting.

* * *

**Surprise! You get a companion to 'Thoughts'! Hooray! It's been so nice to get back to Indy/Marion fiction. But before you review this, I would like to point out that if you haven't read 'Thoughts of a Crazed Archaeologist's Daughter' (my other story, original and companion to this) you may be a little lost. I would also like to say that Indy's thoughts are indeed more mature than Marion's. So, there will be humor and dry sarcasm, but there won't be that much craziness. **

**I think. Heh.**

**So, be a darling and review and tell me what you think. And also, if you'd like to, make sure I didn't have any opposing typos in here. Please?**


	2. Curiosity

After casually asking Ben some questions and flirting some information out of one of the maids, I have discovered several things about the Green Eyed Girl.

Which, now that I think about it, I realize that I was stupid for not figuring out in the first place.

She's Mr. Ravenwood's bloody DAUGHTER.

How could I even forget that? I even remember hearing about her when talking to Mr. Ravenwood on the phone, goddammit. He had said, 'I live with no one but my sixteen year old daughter, Marion' and I recall my saying, 'Oh, that's nice' but not really registering the words because at that particular moment in time I was busy eyeing the waitress at the counter of the bar I was in.

We ended up sleeping together, the waitress and I. Beautiful body. I never even had a problem with her until she told me she was married.

But anyway, attractive waitress disregarded, I should have remembered he had a daughter. I should have known that and greeted her properly. I probably should not have shown up to the Ravenwood's house on her own birthday. And I shouldn't have scared the poor thing shit-less.

Knowing many daughters of many Professors, I know how to handle them. She'll be quiet, timid, probably rather bookish. The picture perfect female scholar, and by no means exciting in any way. We'll talk small, awkward and polite conversations and I'll only know a tiny bit about her before I leave this place.

Leave it to me to make a mistake on my first day here.

I finish unpacking my small room, and stretch out on my bed, listening to the cracking of my joints and suppressing a yawn.

I hear hushed voices outside my door and decide to tune in, hoping the mindless gossip of the house staff will lull me into a much needed sleep.

"Marion has been storming about her room all morning." I hear the cook say to Ben. "She nearly tackled me down in her rage."

Rage? An Archaeologist's Daughter? Disbelief ripples through me and I almost laugh.

Ben sighs. "It's not like we couldn't expect this. After all, her own father forgot her birthday."

"But all the same," The cook replies, "I've never seen the girl in such a mood. She keeps asking about someone called 'The Imposter' and keeps ranting about her oncoming death."

Oncoming death? My eyes snap open. Is the girl clinically ill? Depressant? And who the bloody hell is the 'Impostor'?

It's too late to get to sleep now. My curiosity is piqued and I have to know what this dull little girl is like. I've met too many archaeologist's daughters to think much of them, but still, meeting one more can't really hurt. Can it?

The conversation drifts down the hallway and I know they are gone.

Quietly, I stand up and exit my room. I walk up the stairs and nearly gasp out loud when I see the remains of a Babylonian vase lying on the floor.

"Ben!" I call.

"Yes sir?" He nearly appears out of nowhere, making me jump.

"There's a broken vase on the floor." I indicate the pile of now worthless history at my feet.

For the second time today, the butler reacts to a very out-of-the-ordinary occurrence with a calm nod. "So there is. Yes, I believe Miss Ravenwood broke it on her way down here. It happens often."

I recall the crash heard earlier while I was in the study. "What do you mean it happens often? Does Miss Ravenwood have poor depth perception?"

I can swear I see Ben smile as he begins to pick up the shattered pieces. "Something around those lines, Mr. Jones."

I'm more curious than ever. How could a girl of proper respect for history in her blood knock over such an artifact? Instead of asking the question out loud, I simply head up the stairs to find out for myself.

I approach the door with a hesitance I can't place. The room inside is silent. I wonder if the girl is asleep.

Three knocks later, I hear a slight scuffling, and then a gasp. I've obviously caught the shy little girl unawares.

I see the handle turning and take a deep breath.

Analyzing another highly-uninteresting female in the world of many shouldn't take that long.

* * *

**A/N: Just to clue you all in, it would be helpful to brush up on your 'Thoughts of a Crazed Archaeologist's Daughter' IQ in case you don't understand certain elements in this story. And also, you may find that Indy is not as insecure as Marion, being that he's a guy and he's older. I'm sorry to make him so arrogant, but you know....men. I love reviews, you know that. Please review, my pretties????**


	3. First Impressions

Huh.

Well, this is awkward.

She's standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but a nightgown, and staring coolly at me.

Dark hair, unexpectedly tan skin, green eyes, it's a combination I've seen before on one of the female sex. But everything about this girl seems sharply contrasted. Harsh. Angry, even.

I put on my gentleman act all the same.

"You're Abner's daughter...."

Damn, I've already forgotten her name.

I snap my fingers and try to recall it as she stares me up and down. It's not a pleasant stare, either.

"Marion." She sounds oddly venomous, walking away and sprawling herself on her bed, sitting rather unlady-like.

I walk towards her. Her room is small, with a few shelves of books, a Vanity, and a picture on her desk.

"And you're Indiana." The sentence sounds more like a command than anything else.

"Yes, I am. How do you do?" I hold out my hand. She'll shake it politely, blushing in her shyness, and be over her defensive, insecure anger. What else CAN she do?

"It's not nice to meet you." She pouts at me, shaking my hand with a rather strong grip and walking away.

I watch her incredulously as she walks to her closet and pulls out some clothing. A petite, white blouse and.....I can barely believe my eyes, a pair of men's jeans. What is going on? I'm completely shocked at the moment, but soon recover myself.

"And why would that be?" An edge of sarcasm should knock her out of her haughty mood. But oddly enough, a very scheming and decidedly impolite smile flashes across her face.

"Well," She says this airily, as if we're drinking tea and discussing the pros and cons of monarchies, "It's not everyday that your own father forgets your birthday and gives you the present of a new pupil."

She brushes her hair up into a ponytail, glaring at me in the reflection of the mirror. I'm not sure whether it's from lack of sleep or just the circumstances, but my irritation stirs up and overcomes my initial shock that this supposedly timid girl is giving me a whiplash with her poisonous remarks.

"Look, I'm really sorry that I interrupted your happy day, but you can't just judge me." I inform her, walking over to her. She works furiously at her hair, giving her reflection looks of heavy loathing.

Ponytail finally intact, she stands and faces me, daggers practically protruding from her glare. "Can't I?"

Now I do stare, letting the utmost amount of surprise break through. She looks nothing short of pissed off. Never in my entire knowledge of women have I seen one stare at me with such raw vehemence.

She's tiny, probably a head or so shorter than me, yet she's here acting like she's the one doing the towering. She's suntanned, like she spent one too many days in the sun. An array of freckles adorn her face, accenting the ivy green of her eyes. She would probably look rather cutesy, if she wasn't narrowing her eyes at me like a wolf does it's pray.

She smirks, "Let me inform you, Mr. Jones," She stresses my name with a sneer, "That while every damned professor here may fawn over you, I am not going to be your groupie. Find some other girl to admire you constantly. This girl, however," She pointed to herself, "Is going to get out of this nightgown and change into some proper and comfortable clothing."

At the word 'nightgown' I glanced down and blinked. It was true, this nutcase of a girl had allowed me in her room without putting on a cover up for her nightgown. It was a ladies nightgown, but she looked no more feminine in it. In fact, she was swimming in it. There was no sign of any curves, which was both relieving and disappointing. I smiled.

To which she crossed her arms over her chest.

I held my hands up, "Trust me, green eyed girl, I'll leave you alone." That's exactly what I planned on doing. It was clear this girl needed anger management, though she is very harmless with her petite frame and freckly face.

My eyes wander up and down her body again, but only to size her up, not take in the view. She isn't intimidating at all, despite the ferocious anger coming off of her persona in colossal waves.

"Get out." Her voice is deadly quiet.

I take a step towards her, just to see how she reacts.

She, of course, takes a step back. But her I'm-going-to-kill-you expression does not even falter.

"If you come any closer, I'll make you wish you hadn't." She growls.

A threat? I find my amusement and irritation rising in one gradual swell.

"Relax, I know well enough to stay away from the feisty ones." I grin.

"Damn straight." I notices she tightens her arms around the bundle of clothes.

We stand there for a minute, her glaring and me smiling.

And at that precise moment, our discourse is interrupted by none other than Mr. Abner Ravenwood himself.

Portly, with a bushy mustache and an even bushier brow, Mr. Ravenwood practically bounces into the room. The girl's jaw immediately clenches, as if she's fighting some homicidal urge.

"I see you've met my daughter, Indy." He beams at me giving me a firm hug. I see the girl glare even more, if that is even possible.

"Yeah," I lie, "We were just getting acquainted."

"Indiana, this is Marion." Mr. Ravenwood tells me, gesturing to the green eyed girl.

"Hello, Marion." I say smoothly, stretching my hand out for the second time.

She shakes it and grips my hand as hard as she can, making me wince. "Likewise, Indiana."

"Well now," Says Mr. Ravenwood, patting me on the shoulder. "I came to get you because there is a conference on the lost city of Tanis in the ballroom that we just can't miss."

I follow him, leaving a hurt and infuriated Marion Ravenwood in the room, alone.

I sigh as the door swings shut behind us.

This is going to be a long three years.

* * *

**A/N: Please review and or look for typos. And also, for those of you people on Facebook, one of my friends *cough* Biscuit-Barrel *cough* started a Facebook group in honor of the 'Thoughts' saga. If you feel inclined to join, go ahead and do so, before I destroy the group with my laser beam vision. HAHAHHA. **

**Just, kidding about the laser beam thing. But seriously, review, please.**


	4. Conversing with The Crazy

Dinner starts promptly. I make sure to be there five minutes earlier.

For punctuality's sake.

"Ah, Indy. On time, as always." Mr. Ravenwood smiles, ushering me into a seat. The large dining room seems unsuited for the two-person family it belongs to.

We sit and begin to eat.

"Odd," Mr. Ravenwood muses as he chews a piece of pizza, "This is Marion's favorite food, so why isn't she down here?"

Um...because she hates you because you forgot her birthday and because she hates me for the heck of it? Just saying.

"I'm sure there's a logical reason." I offer.

"Did I do something to her?"

I know that it's not my place to call Mr. Ravenwood out for forgetting her birthday. I lay the news on him in the lightest of ways.

"I...er...I believe one of the staff members mentioned something about her birthday, Mr. Ravenwood."

"Abner, Indy, call me Abner." He pauses, looking thoughtfully down at the table. "Yes, I suppose I did forget her birthday."

He whispers something to Ben. I vaguely hear the words 'summer school' and 'Marion' mixed in there, but decide to keep out of it as Ben silently nods and saunters out of the room.

I try to look as engrossed in my meal as possible as I hear the slamming of a door from above, the sound of running and stumbling.

She enters the room rather ungracefully, tripping and slamming the door open. Marion keeps her eyes trained to the ground and then sits, taking a ravenous bite out of some pizza. I've never seen a girl eat so angrily, as if she has to fight the urge to kill something with every bite. I eventually return to my own food, losing interest.

"Marion?" Mr. Raven-....I mean Abner addresses his daughter.

"Yes Abner?" She snaps.

"Did you have a nice birthday?"

To be honest, I've never been to a more entertaining dinner. Most dinners involve lectures and boring discussions, but this....has to be the most intense discussion I've ever seen between an archaeologist and his daughter. She called him by his first name, and he asked her if she had a nice birthday. This is so entertaining. I can tell as much by the way the girl gapes at her father and the way he stares calmly back.

"Young Indy was kind enough to remind me, so happy seventeenth birthday, Marion." As soon as he announces my name, I feel embarrassed. I don't feel like I should have been the one to remember the birthday of a girl I barely know.

But she doesn't say 'My birthday was fine, thank you' nor does she say 'Thank you, Indy, for reminding my father of my birthday'. No, of course she doesn't. I'm starting to learn to expect the unexpected with this one.

"What, were you too busy to remember your only child's birthday yourself?" She asks angrily.

The atmosphere goes stone cold for a second, but then Abner overcomes his shock. I stare at my broccoli.

"Marion Elena Ravenwood...."

Elena....that's Marion's mother's name. I recall meeting the woman years ago; before she had died. But my musings don't go far because Abner leaves the room when Ben alerts him of a telephone call.

Meaning I'm left alone.

With the extremely pissed off teenager.

"A simple thank you will suffice." I inform her, adding a wink for a bit of flair.

She sneers. "Well, I'm sorry to say that you'll get much less than that."

She then leans forward, picks up a glass of wine and drinks the whole thing in a matter of seconds. I can't help but look slightly impressed. A seventeen year old downing a drink. NOW I've seen everything.

"I did you a favor by reminding your dad it was your birthday." This is my lame attempt at creating polite conversation. I think it would be a huge lie to say she doesn't intimidate me just a little. But I can play her game. And just to prove it, I gulp down my wine as well.

"Might I remind you that you are here to ruin the next three years of my life. So no, you have not done me any favors." She parries, sounding most bored.

I decide to throw her for a loop. "If you dislike me that much, Marion, I'll leave."

Like hell I will, with the learning opportunity at this place, but she doesn't need to know that.

She blinks. But easily recovers her sauciness.

"Please don't make me beg." She flutters her eyelashes with this sentence.

I can't help but be angry at her. Bipolar as she's being. Angry, polite, cold, I'm beginning to think that I'm in way over my head. At the moment, I glare at her, and she looks rather pleased about something.

"Marion--." My statement about how much of a bitch I think she's being is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back, ever the polite one.

"And don't call me Marion."

I fight a smile. She wants to be formal? Oh, I'll five her formal. "Alright, Miss Ravenwood."

Abner walks in and smiles at each of our livid faces.

"It's nice to know you two are getting along." He seats himself, humming.

How does he not know?

How does he have no clue that his daughter is a raging madman?

He must be crazy. They're all crazy.

I return to my food silently, avoiding further verbal contact with Marion for the remainder of the evening.

What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

**A/N: You know how much I love you guys. I really do. You know I love reviews, and you know I love your support. Thanks for everything!**


	5. Hostile Tree Dweller

**A/N: Weird chapter name, I know. But it fit.**

* * *

It's been two days since I've really seen Ravenwood (I have to call her by her last name now, remember?) about the house at all. Not that I've even wanted to. I'm fine just spending my days in the library and not catching so much as a glimpse of her. Suits me.

And yet, it's a nice afternoon outside and I don't want to spend the remainder of the day indoors. My sense of adventure is sort of begging for something more exciting than reading another book.

Obeying my conscience, I walk out the house and head into the backyard. I take a deep breath and look around me. Blue skies, a bright sun, a small garden of flowers on the side of the yard near the fence, and a giant sycamore tree.

I instantly feel adrenaline start to tingle in my finger tips. I love climbing trees, though it's probably been a year or so since I've done any tree climbing.

Make that two months, actually. I was out in the Alps looking for a golden mask of some sort and had to find my way back to civilization by climbing trees to see where the town was. An interesting trip, but no pretty girls. You don't have as much fun as an archaeologist when there are no girls around.

Anyway, I'm about to reach around the trunk and hop onto the nearest branch, but stop, something catching my eye.

There she is, sitting atop one of the highest branches, sketching what looks like an apple. Peaceably relaxed, the young girl doesn't look pissed off, which is an interesting contrast to her former expressions.

I should leave her alone. I should let her enjoy her solitude. She probably is miserable with me here.

But I want to apologize. I want to be nice to her. I want to try and make amends.

I try for the easy approach. Hopefully, she'll hear me out.

I wave up at her. She looks up, as if startled from a day dream. She blinks a few times, as if trying to discern who I am.

And then she glares.

"Can I come up?" I ask politely.

"Not if you don't want to get pushed all the way back down!" She turns back to her sketchbook, looking intently at the apple as if she can burn it to pieces with her stare.

I can't help but feel angry with her. Why does she hate me? I mean, yes, I'm here for the next couple years as a student but what's it to her? Shouldn't she be happy for a study buddy?

"Well, will you come down? I'd like to talk to you." I have to grit my teeth to keep from yelling in my agitation.

"Go away!" That's all I get as a response.

I punch the tree angrily, and let out a rather long string of curse words when my fist makes contact with the rock solid wood. I can almost swear I hear her chuckling, but disregard it.

"I'll stay here all night if I have to!" I shout up at her, meaning those words. I am going to talk to Ravenwood. She can't hate me. I'm Indiana Jones, for Christ's sake.

I let out an irritated breath,

This is one stubborn vixen.

* * *

**A/N: The crappy quality of this chapter proves that my writer's block is starting to kick in. Writing in Indy's POV is proving a challenge. I keep wanting to slip back into Marion's mind because a) It's like writing my own thoughts down, just as crazy and just as insecure b) Indy is a rather arrogant bastard, isn't he?**

**Ugh, review, please. I'm sorry for failing you at the moment.**


	6. Screaming, Falling, she does it all

There's a gorgeous woman standing in front of me. I have no clue who she is, but I swear to myself that she will be sleeping with me soon enough.

Brown eyes, sultry and hooded, wink at me. A smile pulls at her lips and I want to leap forward and pull her down next to me. She's very sexy.

She's getting closer, closer. Inches away. Unable to speak for some odd reason I will her closer with my mind. I can't move forward to touch her, so I have to wait until she comes to me.

But then the oddest thing happens.

She opens her mouth and screams.

And then I wake up.

I'm sitting right under that same sycamore I was a few hours ago. It's dark outside. A little voice inside my head tells me something is going wrong. Because a) there is no beautiful woman standing in front of me b) there is still a scream ripping through the air, twice as loud now that I'm awake and c) Marion Ravenwood is fifteen feet above my head, dangling from the highest branch of the tree.

Okay, wait just one minute......

How the bloody hell did she fall from her perch?

Not giving myself another second to wonder about the occurrence of this situation, I place myself under the girl. She's kicking her legs and flailing wildly, and I can barely shout over her strident scream.

"Marion! Let go! I've got you!" That's me shouting that, just to clarify. I may be irritated with the girl, but even I'M not cruel enough to let her drop.

What she yells back shouldn't surprise me, because I've learned to expect anything, but it does.

"Don't call me Marion!"

Really now?

Don't call her Marion? THE GIRL IS DANGLING FROM A TREE BRANCH AND SHE TELLS ME TO NOT CALL HER BY HER FIRST NAME?!

"Just let go!" I yell angrily. She really is being ridiculous.

"Like hell I will!"

I blink angrily and hold back a string of profanity to make a sailor blush. She's crazy. What the hell could possibly have been done to this girl to make her this......nutty? I try many situations in my imagination. Brain damage, bruised childhood, too much hormonal control. Either way, I find it very hard to picture this girl living safely past the age of twenty. It just is not possible, because she is very accident prone.

And crazy.

And dammit, she brings it all on herself.

Before I can ponder any more on this girl's doomed-to-be-short future, she comes suddenly plummeting down. Of course I'm prepared to catch her, and of course it won't be any problem, yet her crescendoing shriek still makes my head ring.

With a thump, she lands (more or less. She may have tumbled ungracefully, but we're not looking at details people, alright?) in my awaiting arms. She clutches at me, burying her face in my shirt and shaking violently. Her weight is barely noticeable, and only now do I realize how very small she is.

Did she pass out?

Is she having a seizure?

I look down at her, trying to make sure she's breathing and not dying in my arms (talk about an awkward situation. Abner would surely kill me then).

A flash of green, she blinks widely. It takes a few seconds for her to realize that she's not dead or badly hurt, yet she still shakes like a leaf and curls up against me. I nearly smile with relief, but then remember that I'm not exactly pleased with her right now.

"Jesus, Ravenwood." She's crazy. I'm relieved she's still alive, but she's crazy.

She blinks again, and slowly raises her eyes to my own. She blinks some more, as if not quite registering what's going on. Terrified, that's what she looks like.

She does this for a minute or so, just staring up at me like a deer in the headlights. Her eyes scan my whole face. I reconsider that seizure theory.

I ease her down onto the ground and look uncertainly at her. Her feet shake unsteadily. It looks like a compromising situation, but I don't risk letting go of her, just in case she randomly collapses. Looking at what she's done so far within the last five minutes, I'm prepared for anything. Her small hands keep a firm grip on my shoulders and she still stares at me.

"Are you alright?" I ask gently. She looks like she's going to pass out, but I can't really be sure.

"I'm fine." A lie. Revealed by her shaky legs and tone.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I have to ask again, lifting her chin to make sure she's got no bruises forming. I don't have to like her, but I can certainly worry about her.

She is, after all, my tutor's daughter.

Ravenwood glances at the ground, the tree, my face, our current position, and my face again.

And then she pushes away from me and sprints away without another word.

Wow. That's it?

No thank you?

No, 'I owe you my life for saving mine, you extremely good-looking sex god?'

Hmph, I should have let her hit the ground and walked away.

* * *

**A/N: An okay chapter. Probably the only one I'll be able to post this weekend because I'm sick, tired, writing other material, and absolutely hating valentines day. I love you guys though. And reviews. You know I love those. OH! And go to my profile and check out my new poll!**


	7. Library Interlude

Goddammit.

This is the second time. The second TIME she broke something valuable in the house.

A Grecian discus. Priceless, pristine. Worth two arms and a leg. Abner must have paid just that much to get it.

And his own daughter broke it.

I tell you, if this keeps up, there won't be any relics left in the world within two months.

I wasn't even the room when she did it, but the crash was inevitable and her shouted curses even more so. She ran out the ballroom, past me, knocked into the butler and sprinted out the front door before Abner could reign his temper down upon her.

I decide to get away from his wrath as well, so head up campus to the library. One of my favorite places in the world, because it's honestly the most quiet place I can ever find myself at. No mountain top, cave or gave yard could ever be as peaceful as a library.

I head to the adventure fiction section, ready to immerse myself in someone else's story that involves getting treasure. I head straight for the goods, scanning the section for the name Robert Louis Stevenson.

"Stevenson....Stevenson. Stenard. Steven. Stipes." I mutter all the names on the shelf under my breath. "But where the hell is Stevenson?"

I turn around wildly, searching for my favorite book. C'mon, where could it be? I know this library has a copy.

And then I see it.

The book, in navy blue binding with golden letters across the cover reading 'Treasure Island', lying propped open on the knees of none other than Marion Ravenwood. I can't help but smile a little bit. Most girls really would not be caught dead reading a rough book like that. It's always Charlotte Bronte, Jane Austen, or Emily Dickinson. I even think that Abner gave Marion a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' for her forgotten birthday. But knowing her, she probably threw it away. Or maybe she ate it.

Hey, with this girl, anything's possible.

I should probably talk to her. Be nice. Get her to act decent towards me. I DID save her life after all. It's not like I'm asking her to admit to my attractiveness. But it wouldn't be bad if she could, you know, bow down and all.

Her eyes are intent on the page, racing back and forth. Every few seconds or so she glances up, as if looking for someone. Where I'm standing, there's no way she can see me from behind this shelf. A few minutes later I decide to reveal myself. I walk over, tipping my head to the side curiously as I watch her.

"Treasure Island? That's a classic." There's my conversation starter. Beautiful, isn't it?

I can swear that she actually winces upon hearing my voice. A fact I find both irritating and hilarious.

She looks up at me, looks like she wants to hurl, and returns to her book.

"What do you want?"

"To talk. You owe me that much." I don't bother to be nice. She owes me.

She doesn't even bat an eyelash at me however. No complaining. No more wincing. She gets up (rather awkwardly, might I add) closes the book with a snap and walks over to a desk and seats herself once more.

"Alright, talk." She sounds very glad to indulge in conversation right now.

"Uhhhh...in a library?" I can't even imagine talking in a library. It's sinful. Where's the respect for quiet I ask you!?

"I'm not leaving until Abner promises not to send me to summer school for something I clearly didn't do." She replies waspishly.

I wince now, recalling Abner's numerous threats about sending his daughter to summer school because she broke the discus. Unable to think of something else to say, I ask a question to which the answer is completely obvious.

"What did you do?"

Blase, Jones, very smooth and blase.

"Broke the Grecian discus that was displayed in the ballroom!" She shouts angrily, glaring at me. It's clear she knows I know.

"SSHHHH!!" An aged librarian swoops upon us, pinched face looking rather blood thirsty for peace disturbers. I shrug in apology.

Ravenwood turns dismissively away. I spot a book on the table next to 'Treasure Island'. I have to fight back a laugh when I see the name of it.

"Is this yours?" I ask, making sure to be quiet as I hold up a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice'. I should have figured that she would be one to read those. Just like all the rest of the girls.

"Yes." She blushes, as if embarrassed by the title itself and slaps my hand away from her. "I tried selling it to the library but they already have twenty copies and every student I offered it to for free had their own copy. I tried reading it earlier but nearly died of hopeless boredom. It's a piece of crap novel."

I stare at her for a minute and she stares back, looking completely sincere with loathing for a book that is considered the Ladies choice these days. And yet here she is, hating it. Trying to sell it to students and the library.

It's too funny to ignore, and I burst out laughing right there. I don't even notice at first the librarian eyeing me from the corner of the room.

"What's so funny?" She looks more sincere with loathing than ever.

"You." I lean on the desk, struggling to stay upright.

I'm completely laughing my ass off in the middle of the library at a seventeen year old girl who hates Jane Austen. The situation is too ironic.

She glares at me, stands up, gathers the two contrasting novels in her arms and runs out of the library.

I know that I should probably follow her. Apologize for giving her all these reasons to run away from me. But there's no way that will happen, because I'm still laughing. And I have yet to find another copy of 'Treasure Island'.

When I do find one, I settle down into the same chair that Marion was in, sighing to myself.

That girl is utterly ridiculous.

If it weren't for her occasionally moments of hilarity, I would probably hate her.

* * *

**A/N: OMG, an update! Can you believe I'm alive???!!! Just barely, my friends, just barely. Review, look for any typos, check out my profile for updates on me and my polls. Love you!**


	8. Chocolate Chip Pancakes

I decide to take a few minutes off from studying one day. I head into the kitchen to grab something to eat, and maybe flirt with some of the kitchen staff.

Yet as I turn the corner to enter, I hear something that makes me stop.

Talking.

To be specific, it's more of a high keening whine than anything else. I open the swinging door to the kitchen and raise an eyebrow as I spot a certain seventeen year old I know, sitting at the table and arguing with the cook.

"C'mon," She pleads, clutching the cooks apron, "Just one. I only want ONE."

"No can do, Miss Ravenwood." Cook says firmly, removing the girl's hands from her apron. "You know the rules. No sweets before dinner."

"But Cookie," Marion whines loudly, swinging around and following the cook as she bustles around the room, "Dinner doesn't start for another hour and a half. And it's just one pancake. One, measly, chocolate chip pancake. I'm starving. Is it too much to ask for one chocolate chip pancake?"

There's something about the tone of her voice that sounds oddly intriguing. And the mention of such an odd food in that tone makes it sound most comical. I can tell the girl's had plenty of practice begging from people.

"Miss Ravenwood," The cook folds her thick arms over her chest as she stares down the tiny girl, "I will not go breaking rules around this house."

Instead of deflating at this sentence, Marion gets down on her knees and clutches at the cook, eyes wide. "Please, cookie? Look, I know I break all your most valuable dishes and steal food a lot, but I can't help it. It's not my fault, Cookie. You have to understand." She stands, looking at Cook with the most imploring gaze I've ever seen on an adolescent girl's face. "But please, can you spare one chocolate chip pancake from breakfast this morning for my skinny, malnutritioned body?"

Cook narrows her eyes at Marion, who's own pair of green ones are staring back pleadingly. "If you're malnutiritioned, then I'm the queen of Sheba. Marion, you eat more then your father and Mr. Jones put together."

Silence. Marion continues to stare imploringly.

A sigh, the cook shakes her graying head. "Alright, but only one pancake!"

Ravenwood allows a smile to leap across her face before throwing herself at the cook and hugging her tightly. "Thank you so much! You're wonderful! I would kiss you if I wasn't about to eat a pancake!"

With that said, Ravenwood bounces over to the stove, snatches what looks like a rather cold looking pancake off the stove and shoves the whole thing in her mouth. Chewing and humming to herself happily, she hugs the cook one last time and exits the kitchen. I hide in the corner and she bounces right past me, completely oblivious.

It's odd, seeing her not looking hostile at all. She actually seems like an enjoyable person in her own natural environment that is not invaded by good looking archaeologists.

I grin amusedly and then proceed to beg the cook for a chocolate chip pancake of my own.

* * *

**A/N: So, the website was being catty and not letting me log on. This update was originally supposed to go up yesterday on my birthday, but that didn't happen. Please read, review, check for any errors, and vote on my poll. **


	9. Pouncing Demon, Hidden Puncher

**A/N: Yes, I am aware that the title of this chapter sounds like a Chinese kung-fu movie titled 'Crouching tiger, hidden dragon'. I don't own that movie, or these characters. Sad fact, I know.**

* * *

I'm in the study reading about the History of Tanis when who should come skipping in but the conniving little pancake lover. I try very hard to ignore her as I bury my nose further into the book I'm reading. She spins around a few times, and then seems to realize I'm there.

I don't think she means any harm as she walks over quietly and bends over me. I don't think she has any plans whatsoever to try and take the mickey out of me.

Oh, Jones, how very wrong you are.

"What are you reading?" She asks, sitting right at my feet. She glances at them as she does so, probably comparing them to her own.

"The History of Tanis." I smile, though not at the History at Tanis. She's still staring inquisitively at my shoe.

"What's your name again?" She looks back up at me, twisting an onyx lock on her finger slowly.

I cannot believe she doesn't remember my name. I've only lived in her own house for a week or more.

"Indiana Jones." I turn back to my book, rather bored.

"What kind of name is Indiana?" She blurts.

I lay my book down and measure Marion up and down. Since when has she be so talkative and curious?

"A special one. What kind of name is Marion?"

"A unique one." She replies. "Besides, Indiana sounds like a dog's name."

"It is the name of a dog." How ironic that she know my namesake immediately.

Her reaction is expected, but it still comes as just as surprising. She begins laughing her ass off, rolling around on the floor and pointing at me.

I decide to shut her up. In a mere amount of seconds, I bring up something to use against her.

"Did you know that Marion was the third queen of Persia, who slept with her maids, who I might add were women as well?"

Her laughter ceases and she glares at me, making it my turn to laugh. I stand up and leave the room, happy to be rid of her, because to be honest, I'm not in a mood to talk to her today. The History of Tanis is far more interesting.

"That wasn't very nice you know!" I hear shrilly from behind me.

I round on her, not glad she followed me.

"Since when have you ever been nice?" Comes my retort, adorning a rather large and mocking smile.

It clearly has an impact on her, my words, because she blinks mid tirade and looks rather put out.

"You're the one who came here and interrupted my perfectly normal life!" She yells, starting to look a little more than pissed off. I don't worry, because what can she possibly do to me? I sort of doubt that a seventeen year old such as Marion Ravenwood could harm a hair on me. But still, I feel pretty angry right back at her.

"Oh yeah? Well, you tell me where I'm supposed to go after leaving my own house because my dad doesn't even want me!" The sentence comes out of my mouth and can't hold it back. Very smart, Indy. Deal the Ace right to your opponent.

"At least you've got my dad to make up for it!" Her voice is as loud as it can possibly be, and she's right in my face. Which does not benefit my ear drums, mind you.

"You're a pretty girl, I'm sure you can manage to find another guy to protect you and make you feel actually wanted." It's a low blow to make, but I'm mad enough to do it.

Which is when I find out how very wrong I was about the whole 'she can't hurt me' deal. Something small and hard smashes against my face, making my head snap back fast. I grunt in pain as the fist leaves my face and I see she's preparing to strike again.

I'll take this moment to say that I have faster reflexes than most people, which was why I am able to catch her fist mid-air and pin it to her side and say quietly and venomously, "What the hell do you think you are doing? I didn't come here to ruin your life, I just came to learn things." She's glaring at me so hard it's a wonderful my head isn't on fire. "Maybe if you'd stop being a bitch and listen to me you wouldn't judge me so much."

I have a slight feeling that my words are like a slap in the face. Her fury-riddled glare falters and her expression closes off all emotion to me. I can't really tell what she's thinking.

"You bastard!" She yells again.

Oh, NOW I know what she is thinking.

"You have no right to chastise me for simply defending what I care about. I-"

Her rant is stopped by the entrance of another voice in this argument, startling both of us. Abner is standing in the doorway, looking just as pissed as his daughter and I.

"Marion Ravenwood and Indiana Jones, stop fighting!" He glowers at the both of us as we stare back, dumbfounded.

I painfully notice that Marion is rather close to me, and that one side of my face is hurting where she had punched it. I mean, really hurting. Like Holy-shit-I-need-some-ice hurting. Now that I get time to think about it, I can't believe she punched me. That hard. I've been punched plenty of times, sure, but always by tall, rather muscular, full grown men. Never by a tiny teen-aged girl. You'd think that--

"Indy, go have Ben tend to that bruise." Abner's voice slices for my train of thought and I stare guiltily at him. "I will not see either of you at dinner tonight. You will eat in your rooms. Lessons are cancelled for the next two days and so is school. But don't think that is all, both of you will be carrying out a number of chores. No excuses. Now each of you, go to your rooms."

He exits the room. Marion stares watches him leave, face masked.

But then she turns to look at me, shaking and breathing hard. I am now aware that I'm on her personal hit-list. She holds her gaze just long enough for me too see something glistening in her eyes.

She turns away quickly and practically runs out of the room, and I force myself to believe that I was imagining the tears spilling over and down her cheeks.

* * *

**A/N: I'm aware that it's been a while. That's because I'm sticking this story at the back of my priorities. Luckily for you, I was inspired and itching for some Indy POV today. I hoipe it turned out alright. I'm working on other one shots. But that doesn't mean I don't want you to review when I do post! **


	10. Conversations of Invincibility

I know I'm supposed to be in my room. Brooding over the wrong things that I have done. Shame on Indy. Yeah yeah.

I never have been a rule follower, just to clarify.

Instead of carrying out Abner's orders (Which is a first, mind you. I'm not THAT disobedient.) I walk to the kitchen after storming out of the hallway, absolutely fuming. The nerve of her. I really don't understand Marion Ravenwood. Running a frustrated hand through my hair I slam open the door of the kitchen, but stop when a voice addresses me.

"Need something, Mr. Jones?" The cook (Everyone just calls her Cook. I have no clue what her real name is.) is standing at the stove, her beefy hands clothed in oven mitts as she pulls out a tray of chocolate chip cookies. My mouth waters, my anger slightly dimmed by an overpowering hunger.

"A cookie would be nice."

Cook smirks. "And conversation as well, I suppose?"

"You know me too well."

She smiles, and for a moment, I can see the same sort of kindness that she bestowed on Marion that day she was making pancakes. "Have a seat."

Walking to the table by the window, I sit and immediately ask, "What do you know about Miss Ravenwood?"

"Marion?" Cook raises a skeptical eyebrow at me and I find myself looking down. She sighs, and I can swear I hear laughter in her tone. "What's there to say? The girl's a right spitfire, I'll give her that."

I nearly scoff.

As if I couldn't figure that out for myself.

"Why, though?" I lean against the table. "She's so defensive. Violent. Crazy, even. And all of the sudden, I say one thing and she practically loses it."

Cook looks thoughtfully at her apron. Her graying hair sticks out at odd angles as she hands me a cookie silently and sits across from me at the table.

"The thing," She begins slowly, staring at her hands, "About Marion Ravenwood is that she's still so young. Seventeen."

I blink. How had I forgotten her age so quickly? Not that Marion doesn't seem young, but...it just never occurred to me.

"And girls her age in that situation..." Cook gestures at the door towards the study, "They have no one to really look up to. With Mr. Ravenwood always gone, Marion had to grow up on her own. Make her own defenses around herself."

I feel like I am back in school for just a minute, hearing a professor lecture me about finding some artifact in a labyrinth. I listen closely.

"The problem with that girl is that she thinks she's invincible." The cook sighs. "The thorny personality keeps her protected and seemingly unemotional. You with me on all this, Mr. Jones?"

Nodding slowly, I take a bite of the cookie in my hand. Perfect and heavenly as usual.

"It's not until she gets insulted, or her life gets intruded upon by an outside force, that she starts to realize her weaknesses and go a bit mad. She's usually nice. Most of the time." Cook fixes a beady eyed gaze on me that I cannot willingly hold. "It might have helped if you had been nicer to her at first."

I blanch, and feel a flare of annoyance. "She's the one who started spitting venom the minute I walked in here."

"That was Marion's rather unorthodox way of saying hello and welcome." Cook answers simply, smirking.

I don't answer. I bite viciously into my cookie.

"Look," Cook stands slowly, stretching like a cat, "I've got another batch of cookies to make, so I'll need you to leave so Mr. Ravenwood won't start thinking I'm letting you have a pre-dinner snack when you're supposed to be in your room."

I don't even ask how she knows that. Gossip and news seems to spread like rapid fire through this house.

Standing up and walking over to the door, I smile and thank her for the cookie. I'm about to exit the kitchen and go shut myself in my room when the Cook calls me back.

"One more thing!" I turn. "The trick to cooperating with Marion is to treat her like an equal. Don't think of her as just any ordinary girl. Because she's far from ordinary, Jones."

Far from ordinary......

As in mentally insane?

Then yes, I agree.

I walk out silently, without a thank you or anything. My room is twenty steps up the stairs. My head is throbbing so hard (Not for a reason that I'm aware of. It was probably the chocolate chip cookies.) that I have to will myself quite a lot to make it all the way to my bed.

I creep slowly up the stairs and crash on my bed, mind whirling. Rubbing my temples and removing my glasses, I pour over what Cook said about Marion. I have to treat her unlike I've treated any other girl. Because she's apparently out of the ordinary. My head throbs again.

Yep, definitely the chocolate chip cookies.

* * *

**A/N: So, I was in math class when this conversation popped into my head. I scribbled this down instead of the notes on three dimensional graphing. Because, honestly, this sort of inspiration for 'thoughts' does not come often. Review, look for typos and SEE MY PROFILE. I have some stuff to tell you.....**


End file.
